R. Balki is experimental. Period. If Cheeni Kum defined (I did not say redefine) love (of a kind), Paa was a casting miracle that didn't go astray. And with Shamitabh, Balki has once again played around a stunner of a storyline, but he creates a curious case out of the script, frequently intercepted by star (read Bachchan) fetish, digs on Bollywood mediocrity and an ad man's (which he used to be) shrewd angle to product placement and PR within the movie. Intermittently, it reverts to the main plot of vocal cord conflicts and a delusional idea of stardom.
A feisty, mute boy from a small village dreams big; the stress and inflection is on mute here. Well, at least it should have been. Star-struck and aspiring to be an actor, he has a little tryst with the bus that goes to Mumbai from his village, and finally one day, he takes the bus. With destiny batting breezily for the boy, Dhaanish (Dhanush) makes friends with Akshara (Akshara Haasan), an assistant director, who flies him to Finland to plant a complicated little device in his throat that stores a/the benefactor's voice and reproduces it through his mouth all in seconds (Yes, the generosity extravaganza was startling, plus I was trying to find the equalizer between gizmo-wonderment and gizmo-hilarity).
And then starts the voice hunting for the voiceless, where they lose no time in bumping into Amitabh Sinha (Amitabh Bachchan), a drunkard who lives the life of a rejected radio jockey (thanks to AIR that disqualified Amitabh Bachchan before he made it big). So, in short, Amitabh Sinha is Amitabh Bachchan had he not become a star (excusing the drinking part maybe).
And so Amitabh Sinha becomes the voice of Dhaanish. (Wonder what didn't sound right about the name Dhanush to Balki, for Dhaanish sounds more like stating a national identity than a name). And just like how the first rushes had suggested, superego and other such conflicts get displayed. The theme is something interesting—who is the real hero, the voice or the actor. But frankly, it didn't pan out, and the story didn't seem to progress from the genesis of the said ego.
In all fairness, Amitabh Bachchan and Dhanush make for a fantastic pair. They could have brought about the same charm onscreen that the drunk Nasseruddin Shah and mute Iqbal in Iqbal did. In a particular scene, where Dhanush gives vent to his frustration non-verbally, every unspoken word magically binds into one single expression. But tapping into this talent went largely unseen after that point, where even his rage was a mediocre filler of his choice four-letter cuss words.
Amitabh Bachchan who excels in the classic deadpan comic delivery, shines through them. Akshara holds her own despite her sing-song dialogue rendering that slowly grows on us. As for Dhanush, after convincing us that a 'stalking' start can lead to many good things through Ranjhanaa, has a series of timed-to-perfect expressions to AB's sound bites. It looked just the plot for quirky scenarios and clever wisecracks (instead of Bachchan on repeat mode about corpses and dead people), but instead, the scenes of self-mockery multiplies causing vague interest, starting with Dhanush's not so handsome face, to Akshara's curves, stretching further to Rekha's shy amusement upon hearing Bachchan's voice when Dhanush speaks, following up with an “I'm so proud of you... uhm, I mean cinema is...” (not verbatim).
Ilayaraja tops himself with yet another excellent BGM as well as soundtrack. The title track is dreamy in Caralisa Monteiro's voice. Bachchan's Piddly song could have worked out great, had it not been at the expense of sturdy performances; we never get to see how good Dhanush is in the film-within-the film (although do watch out for the leaking bladder and makeshift lavatory song). P. C. Sreeram's cinematography works well with the story. There must have been a lot of confusion at the editor's desk, and I only wish Hemanti Sarkar was more adamant.
Watch the movie for its actors, and for the idea, discounting Balki all the while for investing in just one set of vocal cords for two people.
3.25/5